


Lady In Red

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demonic Possession, Drabble, F/M, Rape, Torture, implied non con, implied rape, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Prompt: Demon Possession for angst bingo.





	Lady In Red

Your nails were red.

He’d always liked you in red.

He didn’t seem to be enjoying it much now.

His chest was covered with a sweaty shine, the salty liquid mingling with the blood from every shallow nick on his skin. One of them was a little deeper, allowing the thick life-giving fluid to trickle down over his nipple, before splitting off into two rivulets that followed the lines of his stomach.

It smiled when you worked.

You screamed in your head.

Dean wasn’t screaming. It didn’t like that. Defiant green eyes were locked on yours, but it didn’t look at him. Your hands touched his demon possession tattoo and there was fear in his eyes. “How about I slice this off?” Your voice was lower than usual, huskier - you’d never been able to pull sexy and seductive off, and apparently, it couldn’t either.

Dean’s jaw ticked.

“I bet she’d scream a lot quicker than you did.” Your words made his heart race harder - you could see the pulse point on his neck. “And there’s so much more to do to a woman.” You ran your hands down over your body, cupping your breasts. “It’s bad enough, the things I could do to her, but doing it in your body?” Was that your laugh? It was hideous. “Oh, I’d have to let her live. Let her keep the memory of you hurting her, over and over.”

“Do what you want to me,” Dean snarled, spittle flying from his lips. “Leave her alone.”

Your laugh bounced off the walls this time. “Where’s the fun in that? You’re stone cold, Dean Winchester. This is hurting her, a lot, but you? You’ve had worse right?” His glare was heated, and you knew he remembered the flames of Hell. He had had worse, and you screamed louder, trying to stop it from doing what it wanted.

Dean didn’t make a sound as your fingers guided the knife to his chest, scraping at the skin over his demon warding hard enough to draw blood. One slick like through the design shattered its protection and Dean started to struggle.

Have you ever had that feeling where you’re awake but still asleep, and you spend what feels like hours battling to the surface? That’s what it feels like when a demon leaves you. Like a weight lifts, and you can suddenly move again.

Until he’s pinning you down, free of his bindings, and with black eyes focused on you. It’s nothing new - he’s been a demon before, but this is different, worse. When he was a demon before, it was still him. There was a reluctance to hurt you, and now?

Now there was nothing but cold, soulless eyes that sparkled with ideas of how to make you bleed.

“You’re mine now, precious,” it whispered with his voice, nuzzling against your cheeks. You hadn’t eaten in days, and the demonic possession had left you weak. The demon used Dean’s knees to pin your thighs and the weight of him was excruciating, making you cry out.

Dean’s laugh was a nightmare.

*****

Sam hated the fact that he’d let her get the better of them. He hated that she’d managed to separate him and his brother, and now he was racing against time to get back to the bunker, to stop whatever the demon was planning.

He didn’t want to think that Dean might already be dead. Y/N would never live with herself if she’d done anything that couldn’t be fixed. She was already going to go through hell recovering from the possession. And Sam knew that torture all too well.

Pushing the car harder, he sped down the highway at a speed above the limit, hoping he didn’t get pulled over. The last thing he need was a cop on his tail.

The bunker came into view, and Sam abandoned the vehicle in the driveway. The door was open and he moved as quickly as he could, skidding to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, seeing the devastation of the war room. Bloody handprints on the floor left a trail for him to follow, and his stomach sank.

“Dean?” he called, unsure of what response he would get. “Dean?”

“Sammy?” the unsteady voice of his brother replied, and Sam swallowed thickly, following the sound down towards the bedrooms. More blood smeared on the walls, and the smell of it made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Dean’s room came into view, and Sam sucked in a breath when he saw his brother spread out on the bed, almost nude, with cuts covering his body. He was bleeding profusely from his side, and Sam couldn’t pick his jaw up off of the floor.

“Dean,” he gasped, rushing towards his brother. “God, you’re alive.”

There was a relieved smile on Dean’s face. “I don’t know where she went. She’s…” The elder Winchester’s face crumbled. “Sam, she’s not Y/N, I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” Sam soothed, working to undo the knots on his brother’s wrists. They were loose enough that he got one of his hands free in seconds, and Dean rotated the joint to get the feeling back.

It happened so fast after that.

A weight slammed into him from behind, and Sam reacted on instinct, pulling the demon knife from his inside pocket and driving it hard into his assailant, puncturing her stomach with the sharp blade. Y/N gasped, and slumped, her eyes wide.

Dean grinned.

“Man, that was too easy,” he grunted, pulling his other hand free and Sam cried out and caught Y/N in his arms. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy.” Black filled his eyes and he got to his feet, standing over the younger Winchester. “Dean’s never gonna forgive you for this.”

There was nothing else to say, and the demon smoked out, leaving Dean a crumpled heap on the bed, still bleeding, but breathing.

Y/N choked in his arms, her hands clutching the knife Sam had put in her gut. Tears leaked from her eyes, and Sam sobbed, his face twisting with grief and regret. “Y/N,” he whispered, cupping her face, finally realizing the mess she was in. She was nude, bruised and battered - the demon had used her like a ragdoll.

“S’not…” she gasped, “...not your fault, Sam.” Her fingers were slick with red, and it dripped down to cover her torso. “It wanted to hurt us.”

Dean groaned, and Y/N shuddered, and Sam cried harder. He kissed her forehead three seconds before she sucked in one last breath and everything went out. 

He could feel the blood crusting on his jeans.

“No.”

Dean’s whisper was an echo in a tomb, and Sam didn’t move from his spot on the floor. He’d let the demon trick him, and now he was responsible for his best friend’s death. Her blood stained his pants, and he didn’t even fight when Dean tried to revive her.

“Please…” Dean sobbed, pressing his face into her neck, thick tears trailing down his cheeks. Her blood was on his hands. “I’m sorry…”


End file.
